


though the darkness comes upon me

by Anonymous



Series: no longer was it formless, ever-changing [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantastic Racism, Fifth Blight, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, The Blight (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 16:45:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10416573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Ventus Tabris just wanted to make sure his sister, Naminé, got the best wedding in recent memory. He spent almost all his gold on it even. Except, some stupid human crashed her wedding, and he narrowly avoided execution when a visiting Grey Warden forcefully conscripted him to stop the Fifth Blight two hundred years after the last one.Things somehow don't end up as planned whenever it involved Ven, sadly.





	1. A Day For Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,  
> I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm.  
> I shall endure.  
> What you have created, no one can tear asunder.

Ventus Tabris groaned, can still feel his whole body ache after a day's worth of hard labour. He can already hear the crows cawing on their roosts on the Vhenadahl, and Ventus made no effort to stand up - shem employer be damned. Except it was his day off and the elf relaxed again, nuzzled his ratty pillow. His bed was by no means comfortable, but today was somewhat warm and he was going to enjoy it. A warm day in Denerim was rarer than a human that treated elves with respect.

Before Ven could settle back to sleep, he felt something stir at the corner of his awareness. He palmed the dagger under his pillow, he gripped it tight and was ready to brandish it.

Except ice cold water splashed all over his head.

“Ven! Did you seriously forget what today is?” Ven blinked and let the dagger go. Groaning, he sat up and turned to his sister.

“Morning, Naminé,” he glared at her, all traces of sleep gone. “It’s my day off.”

She giggled and put her hands on her hips. “It’s my wedding, silly. You stayed up preparing for the feast, remember?”

Ven blinked and the memories piled back inside his head. He was on peeling duty, which was why his arms and wrists were twice as sore than the usual. Elated, he jumped off from bed and grabbed Naminé to spin her in an excited circle.

“Creators, I forgot! My baby sister, all grown up!” She laughed and hugged him tight.

She was wearing the first ensemble for her wedding dress - white with blue embroideries. It was made of spider silk, hunted by their great great grandmother and then passed down. There were additional embroideries and other additions to the ensemble as it passed each generation, and Naminé had hers in the form of a blue tear-drop jewel that rested between her rather unimpressive tits. Ven had bruises to prove that he had yet to learn not to make any comments about her modest tracks of land.

One of the older women from the alienage was already pulling Naminé off to meet with one of the chantry sisters in the other room, leaving Ventus alone.

With nothing to do, Ven left their house through the window, made sure his twin daggers were concealed properly before walking around their meagre area in all of Denerim.

Somehow, everything looked brighter.

The gates were open and the King’s guards looked bored to death. Colourful streams of cloth hung in houses, and paper lanterns hung on the Vhenadahl. An enormous table was in the space, and Ven waved at one of the boys bringing the food out.

Ven was glad he had… alternative means of income, even if it was difficult to come by. Most weddings in the aliemage were mostly just exchanging vows in front of the tree while everyone got pissed. Except, Ven had extra gold and he wanted to make his baby sister's wedding as grand as possible, because she deserved that much and her Creators’ blessed heart. He even got her a large cake woth vanilla frosting, even if it pretty much had Ven spending almost all of his gold just for this occassion.

At first, he was worried that the some of the girls would be jealous of Naminé, but their eagerness to make the day as special as possible assuaged those fears. First grand wedding in _decades_.

The stress was probably why he forgot _all_ about it.

Still, it was a good indicator that ten years later, Ven could safely say he _is_ a part of Denerim's elven community. That and the marriage proposals from two years ago after turning sixteen were proof enough. As much as Ven would love a lifelong partner and children… women just weren't his thing.

Ven was smart enough to delegate most of the work to their Hahren, so he could pretty much sat back and watched most of the proceedings. Ven did step in every now and then when needed.

It was mid-noon when they finished, and right on time when the groom from Wyce finally arrived. It was really far away, but that was where their father met someone to arrange for the groom years and years ago, when Naminé could barely talk then.

Ven greeted the man - Cecil - and approved right away. He was pretty, yes, but sensible and had a good head between those shoulders.

“This is amazing,” the groom said, glancing around the humbly decorated alienage. “Usually, chantry mothers - or lay sisters - would just officiate exchanging vows. I've never been to a wedding feast before.”

Ven shrugged, but he could barely hide his pride. “Well, my baby sister deserves the best.”

Cecil gave him a knowing smile, and Ven had to slap himself mentally because he was most definitely _not_ going to steal his sister's soon-to-be-husband. Or pine. Creators, the following years would be _hell_.

Soon enough, the hahren spirited Cecil away and Ven was left alone with his thoughts.

Everything was going smoothly, and one of the boys carrying a crate of spirits from Antiva (Antiva! Ha!), almost dropped it. Everything was going very, very well.

And that unnerved Ven.

In his experience, if things were going as planned, something bad was bound to happen. It may be the humour of some cosmic arse out there.

The blond just wished that whatever wrong that was going to happen, it wouldn’t be something horrible.

Then an armoured shem walked in.

Ven’s hand flew to his concealed dagger immediately, eyeing the stranger. The activity in the alienage came to a halt, observing the odd human that entered. He wore silver-blue armour, long salt-and pepper hair tied into half a ponytail that strangely stood up in spikes with some locks framing the right side of his face, a jagged scar was just on his right eye, and wrinkles were just becoming prominent on his face. What had Ven’s attention was the sword and shield strapped on the man’s back.

Ven narrowed his eyes, and then casually made his way towards the human. The women overseeing the food were whispering in hushed voices, and some of the men were glancing about nervously, anticipating a fight.

“Hello, it’s not often we have human visitors coming ‘round,” Ven began smiling easily, but he angled his body in a subtle hint that if ever the human was to do something unsavoury, he’d met a gruesome end with Ven’s daggers. “Is there something wrong?”

The human chuckled, shaking his head. “I apologise for the intrusion, however, I am looking for Clavis Tabris, better yet - Risa Tabris - I, perhaps you know of them? I am Eraqus, I was acquainted with them a long time ago.”

“They’re dead,” Ven replied flatly. “I’m their son.”

The shem - Eraqus - looked stricken, a flash of ra grief colouring his face before he composed himself and straightened, trying in vain to hide his emotion. “I’m so sorry, it must be difficult.”

Ven shrugged. He raised Naminé and himself, there was no time to grieve and the alienage wasn’t very broken up about it either. Dying elves was common enough.

“My sister and I are doing pretty fine actually. Since you don’t look like the type to cause trouble and know our parents, perhaps you can stay for her wedding or something….” Ventus trailed off when the human’s expression lightened a little.

“I must decline, I’m afraid. I can’t stay for long. I’m here on business actually.” Eraqus motioned towards Ven. “If it’s alright with you, is there somewhere private where we can speak?”

The elf levelled the human a look, eyeing his arms. Eraqus chuckled and held up his gloved hands. “I mean no harm, and I will leave peacefully as well.”

It was his sister's wedding, but Ven had an hour to spare. It won’t be starting until it’s mid-afternoon anyway. Ventus then gestured for Eraqus to follow him.

Ven can feel a hundred eyes following him as he led the human to his house. When they got in, he made sure that Naminé was already out before locking the door.

Their house was small, like all the houses in the alienage. Two bedrooms and a single common space that included the kitchen, dining room, and parlour. Ven and Naminé’s rooms were about as big as two beds, just enough space for a bed and to walk out the door. There was only a single drawer that held both their clothes, and Ven had a chest under his bed that contained armour and gold.

“Okay, business. So… you probably knew mum and what she used to do, and yeah I do the same. Except I don’t tend to aim higher up, I’m still on spurned lovers and small business rivals.” Ven eyes Eraqus’ sword and shield, noted that they were often used _and_ well-kept. “You don’t look like a pushover, why not duel whoever it is for honour or whatever it is you humans do.”

Eraqus gave him an amused glance, shaking his head. He was looking at a carved statue of a halla atop the clothes drawer. Some of the wood already chipped away, and the once intricate details smoothed over with time. “I’m not here for an assassination.”

Ven raised a blond brow. “What for, then?”

“I am a Grey Warden. I was planning to conscript your mother, however, seeing how things are… Perhaps you are amenable to being recruited as a Grey Warden.”

Ventus can feel his eyes were probably bigger than saucers, and he really should close his mouth before a fly gets in. “But… weren’t they banished ages ago? I mean, I’ve been hearing from guards that the King was letting them back in, but… is there some civil war or something?”

“I’m afraid centuries of a conflict that was long resolved is the root of your misunderstanding.” Eraqus straightened. “For the past few weeks, Darkspawn activity increased in the south, began somewhere in the Korcari Wilds. The King and I fear that there is a Blight coming, and I want to conscript you to help fight and end the Blight.”

“A Blight?” Ven frowned. “That doesn’t sound good… but aren’t the Darkspawn gone for good? I heard before that they’re all dead on the last Blight two centuries ago.”

“I’m afraid not. Another Archdemon awakened from its slumber, and we need all the help to end the Blight.” Eraqus turned to Ven with an imploring look. “If I knew your mother well, I know that she would have taught you or your sister everything she knew. I would not want to rip your sister away from her happy life, but if you are amenable…”

Ventus barked out a laughter, disbelieving. “I - this is too sudden. Can I get a day or something to think about it? I mean… it’s _my sister’s_ wedding. I wouldn’t miss, Blight or no Blight.”

Eraqus’ expression turned understanding. “I see… however I can only spare a day, otherwise I will need to travel back to Ostagar. That’s where we will complete your… initiation, as a fully-fledged Grey Warden if ever you decide you want to join.”

Speaking of Ostagar, Ven suddenly remembered that the King was there for over a month now.

Ventus chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you for your time, Ser Tabris. I will be staying at the Gnawed Noble in the Market District.”

“You _could_ stay for the wedding.”

“I apologise, but I don’t think a human would be so welcome to an elven marriage… Not unless I am from the chantry.”

Ven led the Warden out after that. The guards at the gate just grunted at Ven, but didn’t comment otherwise.

Soon enough, everything was absolutely ready and an eager-looking chantry sister was waiting at the makeshift stage under the Vhenadahl. Cecil and Naminé were already there as well, and Ven tuned out what the Chantry sister had to say.

There was a short speech from the alienage Hahren, but Ven had a feeling it’s mostly about reminiscing and honouring the remnants of the once great Elven empire or doing something from tradition. Flower crowns, were a thing.

When Naminé and Cecil began exchanging vows, that’s when Ven paid extra attention. He wanted to always remember this happy day. Even if this was the first time the two met, Ven had a good feeling Cecil will take good care of his sister and make sure she doesn’t go charging headfirst into trouble.

Then the two kissed. Cheers and laughter came abound, and Ven was suddenly struck by the sudden realisation that his sister was now married and he can’t help but feel happy for her. He caught her eyes and Ven gave her a quick smile, can feel giddy butterflies in his stomach.

Before the feast could begin, Ven felt his hackles right and heard something not… quite right with the crowd. He scanned the crowded area and his gaze landed on what shouldn’t be present.

Humans.

There were three of them, and they all look drunk. The one with the expensive clothing was definitely their leader, and Ven then made his way to them, his eyes on the broadsword at the human’s hip. The other two weren’t armed, but Ven ended up in enough fights to know that they were just as dangerous.

As if realising that something was amiss, the jovial mood plummeted and the elves parted away from the intruding humans. The sunny warmth gave way to a sudden chill, as the three humans continued their obnoxious laughter.

“Oh please, don’t stop on my account! I don’t think that knife-ears could actually afford a wedding as grand as this. Were you stealing from my father’s coffers?”

Ven approached, genial smile in place. He made sure his gait was languid, a predator comfortable in its skin. He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t amused at the flash of fear on the human’s face. Ven had facial tattoos (just some twisting branches tracing his cheeks, rather thin and dark green), yes, but he knew enough that it wasn’t _true_ vallaslin. Except it did wonders if someone thought he was some savage Dalish that hunted and feasted on humans.

With a little bit of liquid courage, the human was all confident smirks and greasy smiles. Ven’s smile widened, teeth bared.

“You must be the arl’s son, I’m sorry but your name is escaping me right now.”

The noble was definitely pampered and spoiled, judging by the petulant scowl on his intoxicated face.

He opened his mouth, but then pitched forward into an ungainly slump. A broken jar of cheap dwarven swill covered him head to toe, and a trail of blood dripped down his forehead. The two with him turned ashened, and then picked him up before scurrying away.

Ven glanced up and met mischievous purple eyes.

“That was very rude, you didn’t even let him talk,” Ven chided the little girl with dirty palms (suspiciously the same colour as the broken jar), smile turning genuine.

“Nu-uh, he thinks he can says all the stuff, but he just got no breeches.”

Ven nodded in mock seriousness, can feel the general mood in the alienage lifting. The air was still wary, but now that the human was gone, everyone can breath easier.

There was drinking and dancing, and general merry making. Just because a spoilt human trampling to ruin his sister’s doesn’t mean Ven will let it happen. Just to be sure, the blond just hid some of the bottles for later, just in case the human decided to come back.

There was food abound, and Ven did help himself to three slices of cake.

Naminé was stunning in her wedding dress, and she looked like a dream while she danced with Cecil. They spun and leapt in fast circles, laughing to the beat of music.

The music came to a halt when loud and armoured men came marching inside the alienage.

Ven narrowed his eyes, the same human from earlier led them. Wasn’t the army in Ostagar with the king and Teryn or something?

Ven shook his head, there’s a bigger problem now.

“What do you want?” Ven blocked the human’s view of his sister. Knowing her, she would probably be trying to storm her way forward and demand that the _‘shem better leave before he’s strung’_.

The human somehow managed to exude smugness and spoilt temper all the same. He didn’t bother speaking and simply raised his fist to signal his men.

Then everything came crashing down,

Screams echoed in the alienage. Soldiers stormed forward and began grabbing women that looked above sixteen. Ven cursed and turned to see Cecil pulling Naminé away from the fray.

He almost missed a punch the human sent him, aimed at the back of his head. Ven dodged and grabbed the offending arm, ready to break it in two. Ven had to let go, instincts wild, as he narrowly avoided a flail.

The soldier looked terrified, after realising that he almost hit his lord.

Ven sidestepped and avoided a sword, but ended up slamming back into another soldier. He gritted his teeth, feeling vibrations rattling his bones after hitting the armour. A little dazed, he didn’t see a pommel hitting him at the side of the head.

Ven’s world exploded in pain. Stars danced behind his eyes, and a strange wave of nausea began to rise up from the pit of his gut. His ears rang, and the blond was afraid that he’d gone blind and deaf in one day. He could feel something or someone slinging him over a shoulder, and Ven tried in vain to stay awake. He managed to open his eyes, but black spots danced in his vision. The screaming sounded muffled, as if the whole world was underwater.

There were just too many of them.

Before fully falling into unconsciousness, the last thing he saw was Naminé slung over the noble’s shoulder, blood dripping down her head.

Cursing these horrid humans, darkness finally took Ven.

* * *

 

Ventus was numb.

Naminé looked fine, if not for the terrifying blankness in her blue eyes. It was so stark, the tiny drops of blood on her dress. Ventus wanted to wash it all away.

The noble’s son - Ventus didn’t even bother to remember his name - gurgled his last breath. Ven could barely see the wounds on the man, blood soaking his clothing. He can hear shouting outside, armoured men stomping in search for their lord’s son.

Eventually, someone slammed the bedroom door open. Everything was a whirlwind of motion and colour as they led him and his sister away. They won’t even investigate, Ven knew. After all, he still had his bloodied daggers in his hands.

Ven can hear and see vague impressions of shouting.

_ ‘Savage!’ _ He heard.  _ ‘Murderer!’ _ Which he found funny. He recognised the voice, a client of his secondary job, once.

In the centre of the Market were the gallows. The Teryn loved his theatrics and making examples.

Awareness crashed all at once when rough rope tightened around Ven’s neck. He found himself blinking, surrounded by screaming human who wanted his head for killing the arl’s son. Funny, none of them called for the scum’s head when he stormed the alienage and took their women.

Ventus did not regret slitting the human’s neck.

If it were a human that killed an elf - no, dozens and dozens of elves, none of these people would have batted an eye. Ventus hated them all at once. He just wanted his sister to be safe and happy, away from the horrible things humans were and humans did, but that was only a fleeting dream. He didn’t want her to know how horrible humans could be, how horrible their world can be, but whatever effort he exerted wasn’t enough.

His sister, a widow on the day of her wedding.

Ven clenched his fists and began to struggle. He clawed and screamed and  _ bit. _ Blood burst inside his mouth and he bared his reddened teeth at the human now missing a good chunk of his cheek.

The screaming grew louder and Ven writhed as he was hoisted up. His feet scrambled for purchase on a wobbling piece of wood, heart racing as the noose tightened around his throat.

Ven didn’t know which was louder, his heartbeats or the condemnation.

A Revered Mother was already making a speech about her twice-damned Maker and how humans were salt of the earth. Ven wanted to snarl and scream at her, see if they were so different from the magisters they once condemned.

“Stop!” The Warden - Eraqus - came marching forward, a sudden hush befalling the frenzied crowd. They parted in awe and fear, as a fabled Grey Warden stepped forward. “I am invoking the Right of Conscription and I am conscripting this elf to become a Grey Warden.”

Ven’s eyes widened. The Revered Mother gaped like a fish for half a minute, and if it were any other day, Ven would have been in stitches. She looked indignant and then glanced at Ven with thinly veiled disdain. “He is to be executed, Ser Warden. I don’t see what use you will have for someone condemned for murder.”

“Oh don’t worry yourself, I have plenty.” Eraqus turned to the guards holding Ven and the plank beneath his feet in place. “Well? What are you lot waiting for? Release him so that I could take him with me.”

“If by sundown he is still here, we will have his head! Even if we burn the alienage down if we have to!” The sky’s already cast in orange.

Ven blinked and felt like laughing. Except Eraqus might take him for a loon and take him to an asylum instead. Just as he was about to be hanged, Eraqus swooped in and saved his neck!

At the price of what, though?

Ven shook his head. He can worry about it later. He just escaped the gallows and Naminé-

Naminé!

Reality came crashing back and Ven slumped unceremoniously on the ground. He tugged the rope off, his nails biting into the material, and rushed towards the Warden.

“Where’s my sister?” Ven grabbed Eraqus by the arms, pleading. “Where-”

“Safe - I made sure that all the captive women returned to their home. I can take you there.”

Ven didn’t bother waiting, already speeding off to the alienage.

The once colourful decorations were on the ground, muddied and trashed. The table that once held an enormous feast collapsed at the very centre, its contents looted by human interlopers. Ven can hear sobbing around him, relieved cries and grieving wails blending into a single cacophony that pushed Ven to look for a familiar head of blonde.

His heart skidded to a stop when he found Naminé at their front door, sitting on the dirt with her head between her hands. Her dress was ruined. Ripped at the seams and the bottom caked in mud. The blood had already dried and darkened. Bruises littered her pale arms, and blood crusted in her fingernails.

Physically, she was safe, but Ven knew she was far from fine.

She glanced at him and turned away, hugged herself tighter.

Ven had no idea what to say. He just wanted to make sure she was safe. Now, he had no idea what to do next. The Revered Mother could be bluffing about sending someone to get him back to the gallows, but he didn’t want to risk having another set of humans storming inside the alienage.

Ven can’t stay, but he can’t bring Naminé to wherever Eraqus is taking him either.

“They told me they were going to hang you.” Ven almost didn’t hear her speak, but he was relieved that Naminé finally acknowledged him. “It was horrible, there. He was about to…  but he had a salt cellar and, well…”

Ventus sagged, relieved beyond measure. He had no idea what to do if ever the worst came, but the whole thing was horrible all the same. He knew he couldn’t be there for Naminé all the time, but…

He was going to leave her. Forever, if stories about Wardens were to be believed.

What if humans came storming back to the alienage? What if the Blight. If Eraqus was telling the truth, reached Denerim? What will happen to her? Who will take care of Naminé if he was going to leave? What can Ven do to make sure she’s safe?

“Naminé… I have to leave,” Ven said, kneeling. She looked up and met his eyes. Tears were brimming at the edges, and Ven felt his heart stuck on his throat. “I can’t stay for long. The shems are making threats, and well… I don’t want anything else to happen. I- I don’t want to leave. Who’ll take care of you?”

Naminé glanced to the side. “I can take care of myself just fine. Leave if you have to. Besides. I still have papa’s sword.”

Ven smiled faintly, before turning serious again. “I still have gold in my chest, but it’s only good for a week. I’ll leave you the key and maybe, well… You might find something to keep food on the table.”

Naminé gave him a wry grin and nodded. “I feel so bad for Grandmum now, I ruined her mum’s wedding dress. Tevinter spiders are hard to kill than the usual cave spiders.”

Thankfully, neither will ever know.

“Naminé, I really want to say a heartfelt goodbye and maybe a long speech about you growing up, but I don’t have the words. Just know this, I’ll always be your big brother and I love you always and I’m proud that you can kick arse and carry a sword three times your weight.” Ven glanced at the darkening sky. “I’m getting conscripted to be a Grey Warden and if things turn out fine in Ostagar I’ll be running home as soon as possible. And I know you want to come, but… I know you’re the only one who can make sure that everyone is safe in the alienage.”

“Oh Ven,:” Naminé enveloped the older blond in a tight hug, pouring all her heart and affection, afraid that it would be their last. “I will always pray for your safety. Creators light your path.”

“And may you always have Mythal’s favour.”

With that, Ven parted away from her. He tried not to look back, knowing that his dear sister was probably tearing up, trying to be strong. Ven would have shown her the ropes. Where to find the desperate and in need of sword, where to find those who need protection. Naminé had no one left, and she’s all alone now.

_ ‘I can’t let them touch her, _ ’ Ven reminded himself, clenching his fists as he made his way outside the alienage gates. Eraqus was already there, a pair of rucksacks in each hand. On one of them, Ven could see faint outlines of his daggers.

The Revered Mother was still there, glaring at Ventus as if he were scum. Ven levelled her an even look, and she flinched at the iciness present in his blue eyes.

Before the sun had set, Ventus Tabris already left Denerim.


	2. Joining the Grey Wardens

Ostagar was cold and miserable, rained every other day and smelled just like wet dog - just perfect for every Fereldan. THe mist was thick in the air, with early morning dew covering about every inch of foliage. Much like most of Thedas, the Tevinter Imperium had roads leading to the keep, the old Imperial Highway still stood tall after hundreds of years. It was with begrudging acceptance that if not for Tevinter, the journey would have taken  _ weeks. _

It took two-days worth of walking to get to Ostagar. Even if the Keep was mostly in ruins, the battlements still served as a good camping place for the King’s Army.

Ven scowled most of the time. One of the merchants there thought he was a servant and nearly ladened his arms with weaponry to be delivered to the King. Thankfully, Eraqus was with him all throughout until he was dropped off near the man’s fire pit by the gates to the Korcari Wilds.

It was a little… disconcerting. Eraqus camped away from the main forces (on the other side of the bridge, of all the places), and Ven could feel some thinly veiled dislike. Two hundred years and it nobles just can’t let past transgressions go.

There were two tents on Eraqus’ side of the camp, and he settled down in front of one of them, and then let his pit.

“So, I’m a Grey Warden now. Any special training or?” Ven shifted, not yet sitting down.

“You are still a conscript, not officially a Warden as of yet. We do have a Joining ritual, and there are a few requirements to… gain the powers a Grey Warden has. I have another Warden with me, Terra, and he should be at the northeastern part of the battlements. He should be able to walk you through what you need in order to become a Warden.” Eraqus paused, and then continued. “He should have similar armour, and not quite hard to miss.”

“Alright, sure thing.” Ven then began to walk off, and then stopped. “I can explore around, right?”

Eraqus nodded.

“Great!”

\--------

People milled about in the wee hours of morning already. A couple of warriors were sparring or taking their stress out of some training dummies. There was a Chantry Sister close to the sparring ring leading a few devout warriors in prayer. Then there were humans and elves intermingling (all of them wearing robes, so they must be mages). There were elves in simpler clothes doing errands like bringing food around or digging up latrines. Ven did see a mess area and a couple of holding cells (one was occupied).

Before checking the mess area, Ventus passed by what looked to be kennels for Mabari. The beastmaster was inside the pen trying to get a Mabari to approach him, but the canine simply whined and lied forlornly on the ground.

“Is it sick?” Ven asked as he approached, the beastmaster jumped and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Poor thing. Its master died in battle and poor thing swallowed Darkspawn blood. I have medicine, but I need him muzzled first.” The beastmaster gestured back to the Mabari. He then carefully climbed up the pen and held the Mabari up to the elf. “If it’s alright, are you fine putting the muzzle in for me? You just need to let him smell you and then you can put it on him.”

Ventus shrugged, there was nothing to do anyway. “Give it here.”

Ven jumped over the pen, and then squatted down and slowly sidled up to the dog’s side, making sure to avoid eye contact. At the glance Ven caught on the dog’s eyes, he could see the intelligence shining through it. The Mabari whined again, but didn’t move much. Ven held his fist out to the dog and it then proceeded to sniff it rather enthusiastically. It grumbled lightly and Ven used that as the chance to muzzle the canine.

The beastmaster made a relieved sound. “Thank you, kind ser. I can give ‘im his medicine now.”

“No problem.” Ven slowly sidled away from the Mabari and then jumped out of the pen. He glanced back at the sick canine again. “Is there anything else to help him, though?”

“Well… if you’re going out to the Wilds...” The beastmaster climbed back inside the kennel. “There’s this flower out there in the wilds. Should be plenty this time of the year. It grows on dead wood on the edge of ground pools. White with a red centre. If you could bring a couple, that will help a lot.”

“Alright, I’ll bring back some if ever.”

“Thank you, ser.”

Now that was over with, the blond then made his way to the mess area to check what they were serving. He was a little disappointed that they were giving out grey lumps of gruel. There were stocks of bread and cheese, but this was Ferelden. The prisoner caught Ven’s eye and he approached the man because he was curious on how could he have possibly ended up there.

Somehow, Ventus managed to quick talk the guard to giving him the deserter his meal and then ended up with a key to one of the chests a blacksmith bought. Not that Ventus needed it, not really. Unless he was pressed for time, maybe.

Ven managed to get himself a pair of gloves made from Halla leather and an enchantment rune. His daggers had a slot, but it was expensive getting it enchanted in Denerim.

In the mess hall were two more recruits. One was a large-set man with a claymore strapped to his back, while the other one was an archer.

“Name’s Wedge, that over there is Biggs,” said the smaller man. Biggs just nodded, a light scowl on his face.

“I feel a little left out, the only elf recruit.” Ven made a dramatic gesture of his heart breaking. “Pretty nice camp out here. Was told that we need to get a… Terra, Northeast of the camp.”

“I hear that they’re sending us out to the wilds looking for Darkspawn.” Wedge’s voice was low, and he kept glancing around if someone was listening in. “Part of the ceremony of becoming a Warden, I heard.”

“We’re here, aren’t we Wardens already?” Biggs sighed in slight frustration. “Look here, I was just defending my wife and children, is all. Then the Warden comes swooping in and conscripts me! I wasn’t planning on getting stuck ‘ere. I have a family!”

Ven shrugged. “I’m not complaining. If I wasn’t conscripted, I’d  be hanged.”

“Well… that’s not surprising,” Wedge mentioned. “I was in holding cells before the Warden conscripted me.”

“Well if you have nothing to lose, why not, I guess?” Ven wondered if Eraqus had some sordid past or something similar as well. Had Ven not been caught, he might have hidden for as long as he could, going in and out of Denerim to avoid the city guards. Naminé could take care of herself, Ven can only hope. She  _ can _ use a sword, but Ven made sure that she didn’t encounter what he often sought. It was not the life he wanted for her, but it seemed unavoidable. The last time he saw her, she looked to be fine, albeit shaken.

Then Ven’s mind wandered back to all the other girls.

He remembered seeing some of them, nearly catatonic and haunted. He felt selfish and guilty for being glad that it wasn’t Naminé who ended up the same.

Wedge was still speaking, and he managed to catch Ven’s attention soon enough.

With nothing else to do, he shrugged and waved them off to look for Terra.

Terra was a big and muscular human arguing with another human smaller than him. He wore a heavier set of the silver-blue armour Eraqus had, and Ven’s eyes widened at the enormous claymore on his back.

“What is it now? Haven’t the Grey Wardens asked for than enough from the Circle?”

“I merely came here to deliver a message from the Revered Mother, Ser Mage. She... desires your presence.” Terra was brunet that had hair framing the sides of his face and bright blue eyes. His expression was of wry amusement and his overall posture was very relaxed.

The mage scowled. “What her Reverence ‘desires’ is none of my concern. I am busy helping Grey Wardens - on the King’s orders, no less!”

“Should I have her write a note?” Terra asked blithely. 

The mage turned red in indignation. “Tell the Revered Mother that I will not be harassed in this manner!”

Terra raised a brow. “Yes, I was harassing  _ you _ , by delivering a message.”

“Your glibness earns you no favours.”

“Really? I thought we were going along quite well. I was even going to name one of my children after you… the grumpy one.”

Unbidden, Ven snorted. He had a good feeling he would be getting along quite well with Terra.

The mage took a deep sigh. “Enough, I will speak with the woman if I must. Out of my way, fool!”

With that, the mage stomped off, head held high and indignant. Terra had a wry grin when he turned to Ven.

“You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.”

“Oh, I know what you mean.” Ven put his hands behind his head, stance relaxed. “People from all over the places, stuck in a cold and dreary camp, smelling like Mabari shite….”

“It’s like a party! We can stand in a circle and hold hands.  _ That _ would give the Darkspawn something to think about.” Then Terra’s eyes narrowed, taking in Ven’s slim build and plain tunics. “Wait, we haven’t met, have we? I don’t suppose you happen to be another mage?”

“No we haven’t. You must be Terra.” Ven held his hand up. “I’m Ventus, but everyone just calls me Ven.”

Terra shook it. “Ah, our latest recruit. Sorry you had to see that. The Chantry really doesn’t like mages out of the Circle, and they sent me because er, I used to be a Templar in training until Eraqus recruited me six months ago. I wouldn’t have agreed, but Eraqus said we should all cooperate and try to get along.”

“That was the best show of cooperation yet.” Ven made a pondering gesture. “So, when will everyone start setting tents on fire?”

“After this big battle the King planned, maybe.” Terra then cleared his throat and straightened. “Speaking of which…. As the junior member of the Order, I will be walking you and the other two over becoming Grey Wardens. Whenever you’re ready, we could pick the other two before heading off to the Wilds.”

“I got everything I need,” Ven gestured. “We can go now.”

Terra grinned. “Excellent.”

\------------

It was past noon when they found the old Warden Outpost.

The building was decrepit, and Ven can feel soreness beginning to settle in his limbs. They encountered about three Hurlocks so far (scouts, Ven guessed), and Ven sorely missed the easy prey he was once paid to kill. The Darkspawn were vicious and terrifying. They looked like parodies of men, with the viciousness of beasts and they fought worse than scum.

Ven almost got the jump on him, if not for Terra knocking a Hurlock that managed to grab him. Wedge finished it off with an arrow between its eyes. After that, they got three vials of Darkspawn blood Terra mentioned they needed to…  _ complete _ the ritual. They were just looking for the Warden Treaties.

There was a camp of Darkspawn nearby, and Terra simply advised to stay away or lay some traps just in case. Wedge knew enough about setting up some trip lines to alert them if there was an intruder nearby, and Ven knew how to hide a bear trap well.

It took half an hour searching around the ruins of the outpost, looking for anything resembling treaties or paper. There was a cache Terra said that  _ should _ contain the treaties, but it was empty.

Ven sighed and just sat on a random rock under a shade. Terra was stuck in a staring contest with the cache, and Wedge and Biggs were digging a half-buried chest on the earth.

Despite the time, it was still chilly and Ven had to wonder when was the last time he actually saw the sun. Much like the rest of Ferelden, the Korcari Wilds were mostly grey and cold and wet.

Ven wondered what the ruins looked like in their prime. The arches were tall and the stone looked expensive. Some of the windows still had their colourful glass designs, and there was actually a statue of Andraste still standing despite the hard weather.

“Well, well.  What have we here?” Ven blinked and swiveled to search for the source of the voice. It was low and almost sultry, dare Ven say it, with a light cadence to every word. “Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned?”

At the very top of a fallen walkway was another human around Ven’s age. He wore a hood lined with fur and a tight-fitting leather top that only covered his chest, bound by far too many belts for Ven’s liking; along with matching leggings made from leather as well. He also wore an enormous golden choker that covered most of his collar. Nevertheless, the elf found himself ogling the man. He was pale with luscious black hair with an odd twig or leaf stuck. His features were rather feminine, high cheekbones and full-lips, but Ven could not deny the masculinity of the stranger. His eyes were gold with an odd glow to it.

It took Ven a minute to realise that a long and twisting branch was strapped to the intruder’s back.

An apostate, then.

The apostate proceeded to stalk forward, and Ven found himself rising up from his seat. Terra’s hands were already wandering close to the sword strapped to his back, and Wedge looked ready to notch an arrow.

The apostate smirked, looking far too amused with the presence of threats. “Or… are you merely an intruder? Coming into these Darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?”

Ven was the closest to the apostate, and met his eyes - made sure to keep his gaze level. The human raised a brow and gestured towards the general area.

“What say you? Intruder, or scavenger?”

“Neither obviously,” Ven replied and then gestured towards Terra. “This place belongs to the Grey Wardens, and my friend here is obviously one. And us too, actually, but we haven’t have the uniforms yet.”

The apostate raised a brow, but the edges of his lips quirked into a quick smile. “T’is a tower no longer. It’s long been dead and dessicated by the Wilds.”

The apostate stepped forward, walking past Ven as he eyed their ragtag party. “I have watched you for some time now. ‘Where do they go? Why are they here?’”

Ven turned to follow his movements, noting that there were pouches on the apostate’s belt, along with a wicked looking dagger. “And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?”

“Don’t answer him,” Terra muttered, and Ven glanced to see him levelling the apostate a wary look. “He looks Chasind, that means more are nearby.”

“You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?”

“Yes,” Terra answered loudly. “Swooping is bad.”

“He’s a… er… a Witch of the Wilds, he is. He’ll turn us into toads!” Biggs covered his mouth, realising that his voice was loud enough for the apostate to hear.

“Witch of the Wilds?” He scoffed. “Idle fantasies and legends. Have you no minds of your own?”

“You there, you are an elf, are you not? You know of the old ways and hold on to knowledge long forgotten, you do not frighten easily like,” the apostate paused, lips curving into something wicked. “Little human boys. Tell me your name, and I shall tell you mine.”

“My name is Ventus Tabris,” the elf answered easily, making a peaceful gesture. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“And my name is Vanitas.” He crossed his arms and gestured towards the empty chest. “Am I to guess your purpose? You sought what was in that chest, but it is there no longer?”

“‘There no longer?’” Terra began, indignant. “You stole them, didn’t you? You’re some kind of… sneaky… apostate-thief!”

“Oh yes, very eloquent.” Vanitas rolled his eyes at Terra. “I never knew t’was possible to steal from dead men.”

“Quite easily, it seems,” Terra shot back. “Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them.”

“Oh, I would be happy to return them.” Vanitas turned, flashing Ven a smirk that had the blond flushed pink. “Except I will not. T’was not I who stole them, Invoke whatever name you wish, yet I am not threatened for it won’t mean a thing.”

Ven glanced at Terra, and then returned his gaze back to Vanitas. “Then, who removed them if it wasn’t you?”

“My mother, in fact.”

Ven blinked. “Your mother?”

“Yes, my mother. Did you assume I spawned from a rock?” Vanitas began to walk to the side, giving Ven a withering look at the mention of his mother. He settled over a still-standing pillar, gazing beyond the expanse of the trees.

“A weird, thieving, talking-rock, maybe.”

“Not all in the Wilds are monsters. There are flowers, and toads.” Vanitas glanced back to them. “If you wish, I could take you to my mother. T’is not far from here. You may ask her for your papers, if you would like.”

“Sure.” Ven flashed Vanitas his brightest grin, while Terra made a particularly pained noise. Ven shushed him when it sounded like he was going to protest going with the apostate. Wedge was about to add his two silvers, but Ven shushed him too. “Look, if he wanted to hurt us, he would have done it and wouldn’t bother with helping us.”

“What if he’s leading us to a trap?” Terra whispered rather harshly. “What if the moment we step out, something swoops us?”

“Well, Terra, you said you were a Templar before a Warden, right? You could always do that thing to stop his magic if need be.” Ven flashed the Warden a winning smile.

“Oh… yeah, forgot about that.” Terra then sighed. “Still, I don’t like this.”

“It’ll be fine,” Ven assured, and then glanced back to the other two with them who looked to be whispering among themselves. “It’s four to one, what can happen?”

Thankfully, Ven was glad that he hadn’t managed to jinx  _ that _ . It took half an hour to get to an old cabin. Birds and other sorts of animals were being smoked in a nearby fire pit, clothes hung on a line made of twine, and an enormous cauldron bubbled close to the door.

Outside was an old crone, wearing a worn dress. Vanitas took a deep breath and approached first.

“Mother,” he began. “I bring before you four Grey Wardens who-”

“I see them… child,” the crone acknowledged. “I am old, not blind.” She made a considering noise at the back of her throat. “Much to be expected.”

Vanitas looked uncomfortable with the old woman, standing by her side and trying not to fidget.

Ven narrowed his eyes. He could see that she’s old, yes, but he had a feeling that she wasn’t… quite what she seemed to be. There was something about her that seemed older, even older than her physical appearance. For some reason, he felt she was familiar too. That can’t be right. This was his first time setting foot in the Korcari Wilds, so it would be impossible for him to meet someone like the fabled Witch of the Wilds.

Terra gave the crone a dry look. “Really? You were expecting us? What a surprise.”

“You are required to do nothing. Least of all, believe,” she sneered. “Shut one’s eyes tight or open one’s arms wide - either way, one’s a fool.”

Despite the fact that Ven felt familiar about her, he could not deny that she was dangerous. There was something about the crone that reminded Ven of a cat lazily eyeing its prey. His hackles rose, but he kept his expression genial - cheerful even.

“She’s a Witch of the Wilds, I tell you,” Biggs muttered. “We shouldn’t be talking to her,”

“Quiet, Biggs. If she’s a witch, do you really want to make her mad?”

“Smart lad,” she smiled. “However, largely irrelevant to the larger scheme of things. Believe what you will.”

The crone turned to Ven, and the elf met her stare. She stepped forward with a calculating expression, and her voice held an edge behind it.

“And what of you? Does your elven mind give you a different viewpoint? Or do you believe as these boys do?”

Ven was caught a little off guard by the question, blinking owlishly at the crone. He opened his mouth to answer, but closed it, unsure of his words. His brows furrowed and he thought of what to say.

“If I am to be honest…” Ven paused. “I’m not quite sure what to believe. Are you a witch or just an apostate living in the woods? Who knows?”

“The wisest statement I have heard as of yet. Be always aware… or oblivious? I cannot quite remember.” Her eyes shone with amusement, and Ven felt like he passed some sort of test. Her voice was considerably lighter, motherly even. “So much about you is uncertain, and yet I believe. Do I? Why, it seems I do!”

“So…” Terra sounded amused. “This is the dreaded Witch of the Wilds?”

“Witch of the Wilds, eh? My child must have told you that. Fanciful of such tales like a secret, dancing under the moon along with the trees.” The crone laughed while Vanitas scowled at her before huffing and crossing his arms.

“They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother.”

“True, they came for their treaties. The seal had long worn off, and so I have protected these.” There was a chair nearby, containing a tiny chest. The crone stepped towards it and opened the lid, and then took out a bunch of papers held together by twine. She held it out to Ven, and the blond took it. He leafed 

“You!” Terra sounded indignant, and then paused when he realised what she just said. “Oh… protected them?”

“And why not?” She looked at Terra as if he were some child in need of scolding. Terra actually looked cowed at the glared given to him by a woman half his size. “Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight’s threat is greater than they realise!”

Ven narrowed his eyes at her. “And how do you know that?”

“Either the threat is more or they realise less. Or perhap there is nothing! Or perhaps they will realise nothing!” She laughed again, very, very amused. “Oh, do not mind me, you have what you came for.”

Vanitas cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Time for you to go, then.”

“Do not be ridiculous, child. These are your guests.”

Vanitas rolled his eyes and gestured towards Ven and his party. “Oh, very well. I will show you out of the woods, follow me.”

The trek back to the camp took about an hour, with Wedge and Biggs bantering on the background, while Terra quipped here and there. Ven tried to get Vanitas to talk, but the other boy just gave him one-word replies or snarked back some of Ven’s questions.

It was sundown by the time they got back to Ostagar, but Vanitas looked wary. He stayed away from the path while they headed back to the gates.

“Hey, I just realised,” Ven said, as Terra and the other two were already making their way inside. “We didn’t get your mother’s name.”

Vanitas sighed and pinched his nose. “Her name is Maleficent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far...
> 
> Warden - Ven  
> Alistair - Terra  
> Duncan - Eraqus  
> Morrigan - Vanitas (same colouring!)  
> Flemeth - Maleficent (why not? I mean, dragon crone lady ftw)
> 
> Next up would be meeting the King, the Teryn (who will inevitably betray them), and some other characters...

**Author's Note:**

> totes completed this quest


End file.
